


At the Apex

by Hammocker



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Pre-Slash, Waylon is having none of Eddie's shit, Waylon stands up for himself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-16
Updated: 2017-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-05 22:53:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10319087
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hammocker/pseuds/Hammocker
Summary: Waylon had forgotten the one rule of dealing with predators: never run. It was about time he showed Gluskin that he wasn't anyone's prey.





	

Waylon’s lungs were on fire. Adrenaline pumped through his veins and his heart was close to beating out of his chest. He was running, or trying to run with his bad foot in tow. Waylon had winded corridors, vaulted over debris, slammed in doors, all in a mad dash to evade Eddie Gluskin. The man had mutilated so many others; the images of mangled corpses were burned into his mind’s eye, reminding him of why he had to get away. As fast as he was going, Gluskin only seemed to get closer.

Waylon could only make snap decisions of where to go as he ran. Which doors to open, what to hop over, where to turn. The path had seemed so clear for a while, but misfortune was catching up with him fast. He tripped over himself, an opening had turned out to be too small for him, and now he was facing a dead end. Much as he rattled at the door handle in front of him, it wasn’t budging. There was locker next to it and he could go inside, but Gluskin was so close on his tail that he didn’t know if it would do any good.

So he had a choice. Hide and most definitely be found, or fight his way back out. What was he doing really? Why had he felt the need to fight in the first place? It would have been so easy to just go home and forget what he’d seen. Forget everything.

But that would be the coward’s path. Waylon wasn’t a coward.

Although, he _had_ been acting like one. What had he been taught in the Boy Scouts? About predators? It was just a simple little rule: never run. Why was he forgetting that now? If Gluskin was a predator then of course he’d chase. When a cougar saw anything smaller than it running, its instinct was to pursue. Why would Gluskin be different? Waylon was making stupid decisions. In fact, all of Gluskin’s victims probably had. Squirmed like rabbits trying to get away and sealed their fate. Waylon couldn’t end up like that. Waylon had to make it known that he was predator too.

Gluskin was almost on top of him, heavy steps echoing in the hallway.

“Darling, we can work this out,” Gluskin rasped as he approached the doorway. “Come to me.”

Waylon turned around slowly, finding Gluskin’s form in the door. He wasn’t going to come, no. Gluskin could come to him. He felt his expression morph from one of frenzied fear to a gritting his teeth with frustration.

“Darling?” Gluskin repeated, stalking closer and closer.

He peered at Waylon with a manic curiosity, half-smiling. Waylon met his eyes, holding back sweat and tears and whimpers of fear. He couldn’t be weak now. He held his ground even as Gluskin came within stabbing range. As soon as he stepped with five feet, Waylon raised his arms out and above his head and shouted as loud as he could

“ _Back_!”

Gluskin froze. Flinched, even. He stopped in his tracks and his smile disappeared. Waylon almost broke his stoic facade; he hadn’t totally expected that to work.

“I said back!” 

Gluskin blinked a few times, like he was thinking about what to say. Sure enough, though, after a beat, he took a step back.

“No,” Waylon ordered, just as firm as his first two demands.

“No?” Gluskin echoed, a flat confusion in his voice. He took a slow step forward, lips thinning like his patience seemed to be. A pang of cold fear shout through Waylon, but this was no time for him to lose his nerve.

“Stay back!” he bellowed, the sound echoing through the room. He puffed out his chest and veered forward once, rolling his shoulders and shaking his head like a snake ready to strike. It was a little insane and not exactly practical, but maybe that’s what he needed. Gluskin needed to see that he wasn’t afraid to take risks with him.

To his continued surprise, Gluskin obeyed. He took three steps back and stared at Waylon with a mix of shock, confusion, and- interest, maybe? Waylon wasn’t exactly in a position to be reading his emotions.

“No,” he repeated. Truthfully, Waylon wasn’t sure what exactly he meant, but he knew that he had to keep up this facade of strength. “You don’t put your hands on me. You don’t touch me. I’m not going to let you.”

Gluskin squinted at him, but Waylon only drew himself up further, pushing his chest out and doing everything he could to appear larger than he was.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but if you go near me with that knife or anything sharp, I’ll fight. I’ll bite and scratch and hurt you.”

Waylon took a step forward then, prompting Gluskin to tighten his grip on the blade. He didn’t lunge for Waylon or make any sudden movements, so Waylon kept on showing off his newfound iron will.

“You’d fight me if I tried to cut you, so I’ll fight. You understand, Eddie?”

Eddie furrowed his brow, as though he was trying to decide if Waylon could back up his warnings or not. Waylon didn’t want Eddie to fear him, really. All he wanted was a healthy respect between them. It wasn’t Eddie’s fault that he was in this predicament anyway. He hadn’t asked to have his mind poked and prodded and altered. And yet, he’d responded to Waylon’s pushback. Eddie couldn’t have been completely mindless in what he was doing if that was the case. Could it? Waylon didn’t want to know what that said about his state of mind.

“I- I only wanted to make you beautiful,” Eddie finally said.

As he spoke, Gluskin reached out towards Waylon with his free hand, shuffling forward. It was fast approaching his face and Waylon had to make another quick decision. When his fingers were just a few inches away from Waylon’s face, Waylon slapped Gluskin’s hand.

“No!” he barked once more.

Eddie retracted his arm and held it close to his chest, a glimmer of surprise in his eyes. Waylon had given him a clear warning and he hadn’t listened. A little nip like that would drive the message home. Or aggravate Eddie even further. He couldn’t half-ass it either way.

“Did anyone have to make your mother beautiful?” Waylon demanded, hoping to drive in the final nail in the coffin.

Waylon half-expected Eddie to pounce then, but he didn’t. His eyes dulled and he turned his head away from Waylon, a hint of shame in his face. Waylon wasn’t sure of exactly what he was pondering, but he was sure that he didn’t want to know.

A sniff of laughter escaped Waylon’s nose, almost silent. He’d actually done it; he’d faced down the beast and won. So far, Eddie was standing down and seemed docile. Waylon just hoped that he’d stay that way.

“I want to leave this place,” he tried, speaking slowly. “I’d like you to be able to leave too. I don’t like seeing anyone suffer.”

Eddie didn’t seem to be listening or even present anymore. Even as Waylon leaned over to meet his eyes again, Eddie gave no indication that he was even aware of Waylon’s presence.

“I’m hurt, you know that. You know it’s my fault. But if we’re working together, we both have a better chance of getting out.” Waylon did all he could to look into Eddie’s eyes then. “Can you help me at all?”

Without so much as a glance in Waylon’s direction, Eddie turned and exited the way he’d come. His steps were quieter than before, his stride less confident and almost robotic. In no more than a moment, he was gone.

Waylon sighed as Eddie disappeared. He wasn’t sure what else he’d expected, but at least he didn’t have to worry about being chased for the moment. He backed towards the locker and leaned against it, wincing at the pain in his left foot. It probably wasn’t broken, but it hurt like a bitch and had only worsened with the mad chase that Eddie had put him through. Didn’t help that he had his fair share of cuts and bruises on top of that.

He tried the door once more and found it just as steadfast as before. Waylon grunted and glanced around the room for alternatives. A vent, a broken window, another door, any kind of opening would work. He hobbled past debris to get a good look, surveying with both his naked eye and his camcorder's night vision. Nothing but a caved in doorway and cracking windows. Damn.

With no sign of alternatives, Waylon turned back towards the door he’d entered from. He was gonna have to find some way around. That is, if there even was a way around without finding some kind of battering ram.

Just as he was moving to leave, though, Waylon heard the shuffling of feet out in the corridor. Out of habit, Waylon crouched down, doing his best to blend in with the shadows. He held his breath as a shape appeared in the doorway, but let it go as he realized that it belonged to Eddie. From the looks of it, he’d brought some kind of first aid kit too.

“Darling?” Eddie called to him, squinting in the dark.

“I’m here,” Waylon replied, standing up. “You came back.”

Gluskin breathed his own sigh then and placed the kit on the remnants of a table. “I told you I would.”

“I don’t think you did.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, darling, of course I did. I was very clear.” Eddie laughed and opened up the tin and retrieved what looked to be a tube of disinfectant and a roll of fabric. “You should sit.”

Waylon pushed his discomfort away and settled down against what had once been somebody’s desk. He suppressed a groan of pleasure; getting off of his bad foot was an immediate load off of his back and it felt good. The allowance of rest didn’t hurt either.

Eddie crouched down over Waylon, but his eyes were far away once again. Not in the same way as before, though; he was definitely looking at Waylon, but, at the same time, he wasn’t looking _at_ Waylon. His eyes weren’t quite focused.

He reached out to touch Waylon’s foot, but flinched away like he’d been shocked at the last second.

“You can touch,” Waylon corrected, reaching out to him. “But only to patch. No tearing.”

“Yes, my-” Eddie cut himself off, blinking hard before shaking his head. “Okay.”

He placed one hand under Waylon’s ankle, carefully lifting it off the ground. Waylon winced, but allowed him to do so. He stared down with a kind of fascination; Eddie’s hands were enormous. He’d been struck by them, once or twice. He knew their power, but now they seemed so gentle.

Eddie pressed out a glob of disinfectant over his largest cut and used his knuckles to spread it from his ankle to almost the tips of his toes. Waylon supposed that blanket coverage made sense with how many scrapes he’d accrued, and it was better not to think about what might have accumulated on Eddie’s hands.

Eddie only took a minute or two with the disinfectant before moving on to the bandages. He unwound a good strip and get to work, first binding the ankle and working his way down. He pulled every wrap tight, but Waylon didn’t mind too much. It felt a bit better really, having it in a relatively stiff position

Once the whole foot was bound, Eddie stood up to rummage in the kit once again. A metallic clink preceded him pulling out a pair of surgical scissors. Waylon tensed at the sight of them, and, right away, Eddie’s eyes were on him. No, no, no, no, no…

To his relief, Eddie’s demeanor didn’t change. He frowned, but none of his aggression came back.

“I don’t mean to frighten you,” Eddie said, the lilting affection of his voice replaced by a flat lucidity.

“You don’t.” Waylon emphasized his words by drawing himself up. “You just startled me, I’m not afraid.”

Eddie leaned down once again and, if only to prove his words true, Waylon held his position. He was perfectly still as Eddie leaned down, picked up the bandages where he’d left them, and snipped the roll off. With that done, he tied off the bandage and stood back up.

Waylon hesitated to move even after that, preferring to alternate gazing at his dressed foot and Eddie packing up again.

“Thank you,” he said after a moment.

“I couldn’t watch you suffer, mother.”

Waylon did a double take and stared up at Eddie.

“What?” he breathed.

“What?” Eddie repeated back at him.

“Uh. You called me “mother.””

“Did- did I say that? Truly?” Eddie asked, just as uncertain as Waylon. “Darling?”

Slowly, Waylon nodded, not exactly sure what might set Gluskin off at any moment.

“Oh dear. My head doesn’t seem to be working properly today,” he said, punctuating the words with an uncomfortable laugh. “I keep forgetting what I’m meant to do.”

“And you’re meant to...?”

Eddie looked back to Waylon, but this time he seemed more aware of who and what he was looking at. He smiled a bit, as though Waylon hadn’t spoken at all.

“I don’t believe I’ve asked your name,” he seemed to deflect. “Terribly rude of me, my deepest apologies.”

“Waylon,” Waylon told him as he shakily got to his feet.

“Where do you plan to go, Waylon?”

“That way,” Waylon said, pointing at the stubborn door. “Or, I would if it wasn’t all blocked off. I need to get out of this death trap.”

“You’re still hurt,” Eddie warned, putting his hands out as though he wanted to support Waylon.

“I’ll deal with it.”

“I could protect you. If you stayed.” Eddie’s voice was higher than before, almost pleading. He reached out and touched the back of Waylon’s hand. “You’re not like the others, I see that. Stay with me.”

“I really can’t. This whole situation is bigger than both of us and I have to get out.” He didn’t pull his hand away from Eddie’s and allowed their hands to even brush together more. “You wouldn’t want all the things they’ve done to you to happen to anyone else, would you?”

Anger flashed in Gluskin’s eyes, but Waylon could tell that it wasn’t meant for him.

Waylon blinked with confusion up at him, but clarity came as Gluskin set his gaze on the offending door. He seemed to size it up, like a bull staring down a matador. His foot even twitched as though to scrape the ground. In an instant, Gluskin charged, shoulders forward, at the door and threw himself at it. There was a snapping crash, and, just like that, the door was out of the way.

Waylon stood there gaping for a moment. Why Eddie hadn’t let himself out of the facility yet perplexed Waylon, but he wasn’t complaining. He’d asked for a battering ram and he’d gotten one.

“Well, what are you waiting for?” Eddie asked, poking his head back in the doorway with a smile. “An engraved invitation?”

Waylon moved to hobble over to him, but soon found Eddie approaching him instead.

“You’re still hardly in any condition to be walking. Allow me.”

Eddie took his spot next to Waylon and gave him an expectant stare. Waylon stared back, eyes darting back and forth as he pondered if he should do something or not. Eddie seemed to find this uncertainty funny.

“Arm around me, darling, if you please,” he laughed. “Honestly, I don’t know how women manage to be so fussy.”

“I’m a man. I’m like you,” Waylon immediately corrected, like a cuff to Eddie’s cheek. He put his arm around Eddie anyway and allowed Eddie to do the same to him. The whole woman delusion struck Waylon as a means to put him below Eddie on the pecking order, and that couldn’t happen.

“Of- course you are. Darling.” Eddie spoke quickly, as though to brush his statement off, but he didn’t sound nearly as confident. Well, at least he hadn’t tripped any important mental mines.

Before they could get on their way, Waylon’s attention was drawn to a thumping in the hall. Eddie drew himself up to listen as well.

“Hide,” he breathed to Waylon, taking his arm off of his back.

Waylon didn’t need to be told twice. He shuffled away from Eddie and back out the way he’d came from, crouching down to conceal himself just around the corner.

He kept his head poked out from his position and watched. While he couldn’t see the other door, he could see Eddie holding his ground and hear footsteps growing closer and closer. Waylon held his breath, counting the seconds. God only knew what was coming, or whether it was stronger or weaker than Eddie. It wasn’t going to be friendly, Waylon knew that much.

Just as the steps died, an animal snarl echoed from the room and a sinewy body flew at Eddie. Right away, Eddie met the challenge, grabbing for the other Variant and meeting hand-to-hand with him. The two of them roared at each other, pushing at each other in a deadly game of tug of war. The hold lasted just a second before the assailant was tossed into some debris with a crash.

Eddie lunged out of Waylon’s view, leaving him lost in a world of sound. Growls and thuds and shouts of half-formed words. For a second, someone sounded like he was being choked before the floor shook with a thunderous crash.

Only then did Waylon dare to lean farther into the room and the image he saw put a knot in his belly. Eddie was on the floor, being held there by a heavy knee on his belly as the other man wailed on his face and neck. Eddie had one hand on his face while the other beat pushed at his chest, but he couldn’t seem to get him off. It pissed Waylon off.

Without thinking, Waylon charged into the room and threw himself on the Variant’s back. Eddie’s attacker gave a yelp of surprise and stopped beating on him for just a second. Waylon hadn’t exactly had a plan so he did what felt natural: he snapped his head down and dug his teeth into the man’s neck.

Another cry of pain escaped the Variant’s throat and he reared off of Eddie, grabbing at his back. Waylon clung to him, using his nails to rake down his sides and middle. Eddie was up again, but Waylon wasn’t willing to give up just yet. He bit as hard as he could and could swear that he tasted blood.

Eddie swung one of his huge hands at the Variant’s face, sending both him and Waylon reeling backward. Waylon released at that point, sending himself tumbling to the ground. Once more, Eddie slammed his fist into their assailant’s face and that was enough to send him running. Waylon didn’t move from his position on the floor, breathing heavily as he came down from the adrenaline high.

“Oh, God, darling, are you alright?” Eddie rasped, leaning down over him and putting his hands over Waylon’s chest. “Why would you do that to yourself? Those- those _things_ are dangerous.”

“I’m dangerous,” Waylon said, flashing his teeth in a tired smile. “And you were in danger. You helped me, I help you.”

“You’re mad,” Eddie said, even as he reached down to haul Waylon to his feet.

“Yup.” Waylon nodded along with him, leaning up against Eddie once more. “Figured that out awhile back.”

Eddie stared down at him with new eyes, finally giving a semblance of respect for Waylon’s capabilities. Waylon just rolled his eyes like it was nothing.

“Come on, we gotta go now if we’re gonna go.”

Waylon started out, but Eddie practically carried Waylon from then on, right out of his domain. Waylon wasn’t sure what to make of it all, but at least he had an escort for the time being. Who knew that a little assertion could go so far?

**Author's Note:**

> I think I might have an unhealthy fascination with Waylon putting Eddie in his place. I just hope Eddie's not too out of character.


End file.
